


listen before i go

by luna_e_stelle



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Suicidal Thoughts, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, me? projecting?, yeah lol big time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 10:58:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19462576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luna_e_stelle/pseuds/luna_e_stelle
Summary: Peter pulled his knees closer to his chest and tugged the blankets tighter around his shoulders. He felt weirdly tongue-tied, even though he wasn't actually speaking. Words wouldn't form in his brain.i’m just sad i guess, he sent back.It was about a minute later when his door slowly creaked open and he felt Tony sit on the edge of his bed."Bad day, bud?"orDepression knocks Peter down, and Tony helps him get up.





	listen before i go

**Author's Note:**

> title from the billie eilish song cause i'm basic and sad

Sometimes, Peter found it really hard to get out of bed.

His heart was heavy, everything felt fuzzy. His brain was kind of buzzing, unfocused, and his limbs weighed him down and his eyes itched to close again, to sleep, even though he hadn’t been awake for more than ten minutes.

There was a gap in the curtains. He turned his head slightly and saw overcast clouds and trees being thrashed in the wind. There weren't any leaves —just thin, spindly branches.

Peter pulled the thick duvet closer to his chin and buried deeper into the pillows. He trailed his eyes up to the white roof. There was a hollowness in his chest, and it felt like it was going to swallow him whole.

He felt too tired to care, though, and he let his eyes shut.

Blankness didn't wash over his mind like he hoped it would. He knew he was awake, and was painfully aware of it. He thought about homework. He thought about how exhausting sitting up seemed, how tiring the thought of moving from his bed made his limbs feel, how it made his mind fall into a blurry spiral. Sleep fell from his grasp, and he opened his eyes again.

He looked at his phone, plugged into the charger and sitting on his bedside table. He couldn't be bothered reaching for it, even when it buzzed.

The weight in his heart got heavier. He curled under his blankets, hid underneath his nest of pillows until the air got thick and dense and hot. His thoughts drifted for a few seconds, and the silence of his room somehow got quieter.

When he pushed the covers back down, the wind was still snapping the branches in the gap of the curtain. His phone buzzed again. Moving his arm to grab it took less effort than he had thought it would.

 _Hey kid_ , a text from Tony read. _Wanna go out and get breakfast?_

Peter stared at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Going out was the last thing that he wanted. Just thinking about it was too loud and exhausting, too much. He just couldn't figure out how to type that; how to tell Tony that it was already a horrible day and he just wanted to sleep — or not move, at least.

 _Fri said you're awake_ , another message said. _you can't ignore me in my own house kiddo_

He replied in a way that summed up his feelings completely: _:(_

The phone slid from his fingers onto the bed, and Peter shut his eyes again and breathed in, before looking back at the screen, watching as the ellipsis popped up as Tony typed.

_Is that a 'sad because you can't ignore me' or a 'sad because you don't wanna go out for breakfast'?_

Peter pulled his knees closer to his chest and tugged the blankets tighter around his shoulders. He felt weirdly tongue-tied, even though he wasn't actually speaking. Words wouldn't form in his brain. _i’m just sad i guess_ , he sent back.

It was about a minute later when his door slowly creaked open and he felt Tony sit on the edge of his bed.

"Bad day, bud?"

He blinked to see Tony, head tilted. Peter nodded a little and huddled into his blankets more, blinked away the stinging in his eyes.

Tony wordlessly started carding a hand through Peter's curls. "You know what brought it on?"

The hollowness in his chest was expanding, and he shook his head, staring out the gap in the curtain.

"That's okay," Tony said softly. "Can you sit up?"

He didn't want to, but something frustrated and spiteful in his head hissed for him to not be childish. He knew he looked miserable when he pushed himself up, so he just curled forward onto Tony's shoulder, tried to ignore how weak he felt.

Tony wrapped his arms around him, and for a second he felt better; like he wouldn't completely unravel.

"Let's go get something to eat," Tony said, thumb slowly moving back on forth on his skin. "And then we'll come back home and marathon one of your dorky shows all day."

Peter slightly pulled away, eyes pleading, brows knitted together.

"You won't have to talk to anyone," Tony interrupted, before he could get a word in. "Won't even have to leave the car."

He bit his lip, worked his jaw. "Okay," he whispered, and Tony smiled softly, cupped the back of his neck for a moment before gently helping him up.

In the car, the music played quietly and Peter’s eyes were blank as the city rolled past. The thought of food made his gut clench, made him swallow a sick feeling in his throat, and when they pulled into a Starbucks drive-through, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

When they got back home, he forced down half a piece of banana bread, sipped on his ice coffee, and buried his head in Tony’s neck and tried to block out the feeling of something pressing on his sternum, of something consuming and poisonous.

Time slipped away.

He woke up in his bed, hours later, the room dark and washed away by the night, and he was exactly where he started. Hopeless. Broken, a record on repeat. The needle scratched the vinyl, but its screech was silent and no one could hear it. No one could hear him.

He was screaming against the weight in his chest, and no one would ever hear.

He didn’t want to feel like that anymore.

The compound was empty. When he stood in the elevator, FRIDAY asked where he would like to go.

The roof was up. Tony's bedroom was down.

It would be easy to fall. He wanted to, he realised. He wanted to fall.

"Take me…" He felt his heart thud in protest, felt the tremor in his hands and the spikes in his eyes. "Can you — I want —"

There was terror flooding his blood, racking his bones until it was all he was.

"Mister Stark — I want — take me to Tony — please," he said. His voice cracked.

He didn't knock. Tony was awake, standing by a dresser and taking off his watch. It glinted in the light, and he met Peter's blurry eyes, rushed over and caught him before he could crumple.

"Hey, _hey_." The carpeted floor dug into Peter’s knees, but Tony’s hands were warm and gentle when they brushed back his hair and cupped his face. "Talk to me, kid. Tell me what’s wrong."

Peter looked at Tony — really looked at him. There were lines around his eyes and stubble on his jaw, and Peter pressed his cheek into Tony’s hand, squeezed his eyes shut and bit back a sob.

The hollowness expanded, consuming and drowning him, dragging him down into its freezing depths until he couldn’t breathe, until the pressure on his sternum was too much, too intense.

"Pete?"

He fell forwards, let his head lean against Tony’s chest — stable and solid as the fingers not hesitating to tangle into his hair.

"I don’t — I don’t want to feel like this anymore," he choked, grabbing Tony’s shirt in his fist, holding on tight. "Tony, I can’t _do this_ anymore —"

He felt desperate. He needed Tony to understand, needed him to talk him out of doing something stupid, needed him to make the feelings go away.

Tony held him tighter. "It’s okay, I’ve got you, kid. You’re okay."

"I’m _not._ " His voice felt snapping and angry, but it sounded clogged and scared and shaking. "I can’t do this anymore."

Peter’s cheeks were painted with tears and his breath stuttered in his lungs.

"I know, I _know_ , Pete," Tony said, and Peter was nothing, just tired eyes and a hollow chest. "But you — you have to. There’s no other option."

There was another option, and Peter wanted to choose it. Maybe Tony could tell, because he pulled away and studied Peter, serious and focused and sad, cupped his face again.

"Do you wanna hurt yourself, Peter?" He kind of seemed afraid of what the answer was going to be.

The question was more complicated than it should have been. It got all tangled in Peter’s mind. "I wanted to go to the roof," he decided, and Tony sucked in a breath and maybe he chose wrong.

"You came to me." Tony pressed a rough kiss into his hair. Maybe he wasn’t nothing, because something warm and safe leaked into his heart, made it loosen and the pressure let up a little. "That’s — that’s really good, Pete. You did the right thing. You _always_ come to me if you feel like that, yeah?"

"Yeah," he whispered. He let himself sink back into Tony’s chest and latched onto the warmth.

Later, when his muscles were stiff and aching, Tony moved him to the bed and laid down next to him, an arm around his shoulders and fingers working through his curls. Peter could see the sun rising through the massive windows and pulled back curtains.

Peter shivered, but he didn’t mind, because he curled into Tony’s side, and they watched the sky turn purple and orange.

"You’re gonna be okay, Pete," Tony said. There was a softness in his voice, a promise. "I’ll be right here, kid — making sure."

He wasn’t empty, or hollow, or drowning. He wasn’t okay, but, as Tony squeezed his shoulders gently and threw a warm blanket over him, he knew he would be.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah i got The Big Sad lately so u all get this clusterfuck hope u enjoyed 
> 
> my tumblr is @legalassie if you wanna come talk<3


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